


Tension Grows, the Whistle Blows

by idea_of_sarcasm



Category: Power Play (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-27 18:35:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/298795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idea_of_sarcasm/pseuds/idea_of_sarcasm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Never have I seen two people, Coco, who I'd like more to put in a locked room together to sort out their differences.  Not even Goodenow and Bettman, and they cost me a whole damned season of good hockey.  Never seen people who needed each other more, who wanted each other more, but wouldn't say it.  Well, maybe Goodenow and Bettman, but nobody's talking there"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tension Grows, the Whistle Blows

**Author's Note:**

  * For [atatteredrose (atr)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/atr/gifts).



> Atatteredrose - I'm sorry this amounted to little more than "Colleen and Brett sitting in a tree, kissing", ha. Can I promise that when I've had the time to rewatch all 24 episodes and not just select ones to relearn their banter, I'll write an epic fic in this fandom? I've never been more happy to double the fic count for a TV series :)

"Can't stand the new rules," Duff muttered, as they sat in the stands watching practise, "this isn't ice dancing. This is hockey."

They were supposed to be discussing his steel interests, because Colleen didn't do hockey, not anymore. In theory, at least – but it was her delusion and she was sticking to it. The problem was Duff McArdle lived hockey, and he barely left Copps Coliseum for anything, let alone business meetings. He was too colourful a man to ever become a figure equivalent to the phantom of the opera, but he certainly had a good beginning. What was eccentricity is now being viewed as dementia, but nobody will say it straight to him. She might protect his business interests, but it's more she protects Duff, from that as well.

Colleen pretended she didn't know that he was talking about the proposed changes to eliminate fighting from the game, that she didn't have usually Sportscentre on in the background when she poured a glass of wine at night. There were a lot of those nights, spend alone in the quiet of her condo.

"Ask Wendel Clark how he feels about taking it out of the game," Duff waved his arms impatiently, "going after McSorley in '93 was about more than throwing punches. A bit like winning a lottery cheque delivered by a separatist, using a Maple Leaf example to prove a point, but there you are. Todd Maplethorpe, now there's somebody who might have been able to give a what-for, but Wendel - he was the master."

Over the years, she'd learned that was impossible to cut him off even when he was on a tangent. Colleen listened with half an ear as he carried on further, though she knew it was mostly bluster. He loved his players nearly as much as the team itself. He would eventually give into anything to protect them. If he wasn't living more and more in the good old days and memories he would have already. There were too many hockey deaths the past year; depression, suicide, concussions – mostly the enforcers of the game.

She remembered the players of her days, Maplethorpe being one of him. He'd been knocked out of the game with a knee injury a few years ago. In fact, Mark Simpson was one of the few Steelheads she'd known who'd been able to retire on his own terms. Good for him, she supposed, going out on top.

"Ste...." Colleen began when Duff broke off, trying to bring his attention back to the businesses she was actually involved in, but her own speech was cut off when she saw Brett Parker. Standing with a woman. A blond, perky, curvaceous woman who seemed to have never heard of the concept of personal space.

She was not going to ask.

Duff might be blind to things he didn't want to see, but he was always happy to read things into her and Brett. Time didn't stop that. "Melissa," he says, nodding down at the woman who was hanging on Parker's every word, "from that new Sportsnet magazine."

"National exposure is always nice," Colleen said, non-committal.

"Nice woman," Duff continued, "even if she's originally from Philidelphia. No patience for the Flyers; rather have the Maple Leafs win the cup every year. Nothing on you though. Got her job on account of her blond hair. Don't get me wrong Coco, I've learned, women have a place in the game - if that Hayley Wickenheiser would ever let me I'd put her behind the bench. She doesn't know hockey though, doesn't know Canada. Asked me once to change the name of the French fries at the stadium to Freedom fries. Never could quite get behind her after that."

Colleen was sure Parker could certainly get behind the woman.

Like the illusion she was completely done with hockey, she always clung to the illusion she was completely done with Brett. They did not have a relationship, they did not fuck, but there was still something between them liked a damned cord she couldn't cut. They also don't converse politely because that has never been them. So, she did her best to avoid him. She doesn't ever watch games with Duff in the box when he might be there, she visits when she thinks he'll be busy, and she tries her best to make Duff come to her. Still, there is no getting away from him entirely. He's always there even if they're not physically in the same room.

If her life was a movie, she was sure he would find the book with her phone number scrawled on the inside. There are no words for how much she hates that feeling.

She hates even more exactly how much she fixates on the fact he's never remarried, never even had an open relationship that's lasted. It's a validation, that she's right – that there is something inherently wrong with him. Colleen was aware she had a lot of delusions.

"I don't suppose we're going to talk steel, are we?" Colleen sighed, leaning forward onto her elbows, determinedly looking at the players and not at Brett.

"Eventually. Time and a place."

"I don't do hockey anymore, Duff." It was an old litany.

"Of course you do Coco. Still, no talking business during practise."

That was always the problem with him. Hockey is a love, not a business. It made him an owner beloved by fans and players, but not by the league or the shareholders.

The new president has it easy. They don't have to nurse the team from crisis to crisis. They don't have to kill a part of their soul to either try and kill the team, or try and save it, depending on what's best for Duff's interests at each point in time. The team is talented and deep enough to be perpetually decent, if not Stanley Cup worthy. More importantly though, the league is no longer out to get them. They have teams floundering in the US, where palm trees and ice clash. They have a team in Winnipeg where they never really wanted one in the first place. They have other organizations to persecute.

She remembers the days when the only media was Thornton from the Spectator; when the only nationally televised game was a pity Hockey Night in Canada feature when they were playing the Leafs. Now there is attention, and there is exposure. There is even a Sportsnet Hamilton that airs their games exclusively. Of course there is a Sportsnet for everything these days.

Duff sees it as a way for Parker to sign the free agents of whom he fancies the cut of their jib. Colleen sees it as a way for them all to stay nicely solvent.

"Talk to Parker for me," he said, spreading his arms across the back of his chair, "tell him he's got to do something about Norman. Tremblay could take him, with the two artificial knees he's got now."

"Tell him yourself."

"Can't. I'm not the one who needs an excuse to put herself into a room with him."

Colleen cut a look sharply over at Duff who looked back at her, not even pretending at innocence. He was never usually blatant. Oh, it wasn't like his allusions were hard to understand – comparing Brett to the oxygen she couldn't do without, but that wasn't the same. He never tried to push them together, not really.

"Brett and I are done," she said, "we have been for a long time."

"I often think I'm done with the hooch, but there's a bottle up in my hideaway that says otherwise."

She would have lectured him for that, but he cut her off, "Never have I seen two people, Coco, who I'd like more to put in a locked room together to sort out their differences. Not even Goodenow and Bettman, and they cost me a whole damned season of good hockey. Never seen people who needed each other more, who wanted each other more, but wouldn't say it. Well, maybe Goodenow and Bettman, but nobody's talking there. Not good for anybody the way you two try to pretend the other doesn't exist."

"I thought there was no talking business during practise," Colleen said wearily.

There was no look of pity from Duff, but she felt it all the same. She hadn't felt it so acutely since she'd asked to get out of hockey, admitted she didn't know what to do with something she couldn't control – the ride of human passion. She'd almost had to bite back tears then, an incredibly sadness she hadn't expected. She almost had to now again.

Instead, she watched as Duff got to his feet. "Remember Coco, tell Parker," he admonished, leaning down to peck her on the cheek before he meandered away – more affectionate now as the years went on. She'd learned to be okay with it. Still, it had always been hard to get used to – he was the only one who treated her that way.

If his walk was slower now, his right leg dragging behind, Colleen pretended not to notice. There were only so many truths she could handle at one time.

 

**************************************

 

It wasn't Parker that brought her to the business offices of the Steelheads. She had to talk to Michael Koldon, the president. He might run that aspect team, but she ran McCardle Industries. There were financial constraints or expenditures she always had to make clear. It was an inefficient system, but she was self aware enough to know her control would never give anybody free reign to dictate how Duff's money was spent. He was the owner, but she was the arm of the owner.

Brett would still be at practise. So it couldn't be because of him.

Michael wasn't there either though, his secretary informing her that he had a meeting at the league offices that afternoon. Colleen smiled, declined making an appointment, and said she would be stopping by another time. She rather liked keeping him a bit on his toes, not that he appreciated it in the slightest.

"Colleen," Brett's voice was surprised, as she turned to see him standing in the door of his office. No sarcastic 'Miss Blessed', she might have preferred that.

"Parker," she nodded back, forcing a tight lipped smile, pretending that she hadn't been thinking he might show up.

They both stood there in some weird holding pattern, neither moving or saying anything. Out of the corner of her eye Colleen could see Renata rolling her eyes, before pulling on her jacket to head home for the day. It's a miracle the woman had lasted as she had. She was as routinely 'done' with Brett as Colleen was.

"Duff wanted me to tell you to do something about Norman," she said, grasping at the first thing that came to mind, waving her hand awkwardly.

"Norman?"

"Yes, you know, our goalie."

"I'm well aware of who Norman is, Colleen. And really, 'our' team?"

She had no response for that, but still, when he motioned for her to come into his office, she followed. She wasn't quite sure why.

It had been a year since they were alone together, and that had been an accidental meeting at a Christmas party. She might have kissed him, he might have kissed her, but she was content to pretend that hadn't happened. Or at least blame it on the alcohol. The only thing was she couldn't quite forget the conversation with Duff.

They stood there, _staring_.

Colleen didn't know what to do with him anymore, not that she ever really did. He had changed since they want the Cup. She had to tell herself it's only superficial though, because if wasn't she did the exact wrong thing in throwing him away. It also meant she was more screwed up than he is.

"You're not a good man," she said abruptly, more to convince herself than him. He's not. He's a fantastic GM on the business end, but a horrible excuse for a man. He's brokered back door deals, dealt harshly with fan favourites who weren't cutting it anymore, and did everything he could in the bottom line of winning. He's dedicated himself to this team whole heartedly. At least as an agent you expected them to be slimy little worms. As a GM you at least expected them to _pretend_ to be a little bit more.

He's also not a good man personally. She thinks. Of course she knows how often he leaves the team to visit his daughter now, and she knows that the people around here respect him, even if they often concurrently hate him. He's still Brett, but he's...she doesn't really know. She didn't moderate him, but it was egotistical to think she's the only thing that could.

"No," he gave a harsh bark of laughter, not even commenting at her abrupt change of pace, "I suppose I'm not."

"As long as we've established that then," Colleen said, before she kissed him.

For a moment he didn't move, but then he had her pushed back against the door before she had a chance to worry about the people outside. That was what she wanted, keeping it mindless, keeping it passionate. She might not understand human passion, but at least like that she doesn't have to try. She just has to go with it and blame both of them in the morning. He didn't make a move though, his hands stayed solidly on her waist, even as he kissed her back with slow and drugging kisses she didn't want to do without.

It was Brett who broke away first. "Colleen," he murmured, his breath heavy against her ear.

It was her cue to push him away, to berate them, to talk about how she couldn't do it – not again. Colleen didn't though. She rested her head against his shoulder.

There were some unalienable truths, and she was accepting this one for what it was: she might be a worse person for being with him in the end, but she was absolutely miserable without him.


End file.
